I nod. My inhibitions are fading like I’ve drank too much liquor. My tongue feels thick, my eyes sluggish.
“Oh, and Violet? If you tell anyone what happened, I’m going to gut your senator’s son boyfriend and paint your skin with his blood. Okay?”
It’s the last thing I hear.
56
GREYSON
I’m going to lose my mind.
Coach made me play the first ten minutes of the game. He said we had to keep up appearances for the scouts. For my future. I felt sick every second I was on the ice. When he finally switched me out, I left. I hired a car and got back to Crown Point as fast as I could.
Willow met me outside my house. I went inside and checked every room, even the basement. Just in case. Her phone has been off, rendering her location tracker I gave myself access to ineffective.
There was no sign of Violet. No sign that she came back from her audition.
So we kept looking. I kept in touch with Willow as we searched. The hockey team got back and joined in, and eventually, the sky started to lighten.
All night, and nothing.
We meet back at my house. Willow is distraught, her eyes red and watery. I don’t have the patience for that. For any of it. I just want Violet back—safe and in one piece.
I punch the wall, and Willow makes a tiny peep of surprise. It’s the only sound she’s made since she followed me into the living room, her mouth pinched with worry.
Violet was transparent with her about everything.
Maybe she can figure out who her best friend’s stalker is. And I just haven’t pushed hard enough to jog her memory.
I wheel toward her, uncaring at the flash of fear that crosses her face. She’s never had a reason tofearme, but here we are. “Tell me what you know.”
“I know what you know,” she snaps. “She went to Crown Point Ballet. She’s been paranoid about someone following her for months, but no one did anything. We couldn’t prove it.”
I growl. “This isn’t helping.”
“You’re the obsessive one,” she argues. “Don’t you have some way of finding her? You’re psychotic enough to plant a tracker under her skin. Didn’t think of that, did you?”
Well, there’s a fucking thought. An idea I should’ve had already.
“I’ll track her phone again.” Even as I say it, I’m doubtful it’ll work. I last checked less than an hour ago. In fact, I’ve repeatedly checked when I felt my mind fraying.
Willow creeps closer as I pull up the app and try to ping Violet’s location.
Sure enough, a blue dot appears in the middle of fucking nowhere. Her location shows as having only just updated twenty minutes ago. At four o’clock in the morning.
“Oh my god,” Willow breathes.
I glance at her. “You recognize where this is?”
“On the edge of a state park. There’s just one road in or out.”
Good. “Call the cops,” I order her. I storm out the door, my keys clenched in my hand. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so strung up, the need to get to her so badly. Not even when I realized she was with my father.
I get all the way to my truck when I realize it’s a little tilted to one side. I circle it, and my heart stops. Two of my tires are cut, the front and back on the passenger side. Flat all the way down to the rim.
Someone cut them, but I don’t have time to throw a fit about it.
I go back inside and lift Erik’s keys off one of the hooks by the door. He’s still out searching with Jacob, the two of them checking the library—again—while Knox and Steele are checking her and Willow’s apartment.